On a Cold Tuesday Night
by Sociially-Diisoriiented
Summary: Rey's first impression was 'damn fine'. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a form-fitting black dress shirt tucked into a pair of straight-cut black denim jeans. He knew how to dress, and he looked good in the clothes: fit, healthy, delicious. And then he opened the window, letting in the freezing March air.


Written for Dalzo on AO3 (iamruby on Discord)

Prompt: "two pretty people riding a bus. One keeps opening the window and the other keeps closing it. It goes on for quite a while. Rey and Ben doing this."

Written for the Gift Giving Extravaganze on for the month of February.

* * *

From her seat against the far wall, Rey could see everyone already inside as well as anyone who entered the Skytrain car. She had her feet up on the seat opposite hers and had her head tilted upward leaning against the intersection of the headrest and window; though her hoodie provided little insulation against the cold seeping through the glass, Rey did not move. Through the thinnest of slivers of her eyelids, Rey could see everyone in the car while she appeared fast asleep: a trick Luke had taught her, and that she'd perfected through years of practice.

A man in suit and tie sat, earbuds in his ears and head hunched over his phone; he had the slicked look of someone who took good care of his appearance and expected due compensation for it. A young couple, or perhaps just two very good friends, sat side by side, heads huddled together, whispering madly away, occasionally giggling loudly in the otherwise silent car. A young girl sat directly across the aisle from Rey, her head pressed against the window, eyes wide open; Rey had watched her expression grow from confidently outraged to confused and lost the further down the line they travelled, a familiar look she'd seen in herself before and many others since.

The further they moved from the city center, the fewer passengers they picked up, and the more they lost. For the last two stops, no one had gotten off or on. Rey still had twelve more stops to go before she could walk the two kilometres to her apartment and surrender to blissful sleep.

They slowed to the next platform. The Skytrain came to a slow, hissing stop. The doors parted, and a man walked in.

Rey's first impression was _damn fine_. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a form-fitting black dress shirt tucked into black denim jeans, which were not atrociously baggy but which didn't draw unnecessary attention to his manly pride, either. He knew how to dress, and he looked good in the clothes: fit, healthy, delicious. A thick head of curly black hair framed his face and fell almost to his shoulders. If Rey had been out with Rose at a bar, slightly tipsy and feeling good, she'd have honed in on him.

Her second impression was_ hammered_. He zig-zagged his way to an empty seat that lined the wall and slumped down in it before quickly straightening up as if suddenly self-conscious of his inebriation. He turned with the exaggerated slow-motion movements of one trying to act casual and sober and the openly innocent expression of one who'd had about five too many drinks. In his hand, he held a wrinkled paper bag that had moulded against the form of the bottle it held. He looked around like he wanted to engage with someone.

The businessman took no notice of him, not even bothering to glance up from his screen; the young couple and the possible runaway girl had their backs to him; Rey appeared fast asleep.

At eleven p.m on a cold Tuesday night, no one was out and about if they didn't have to be. It was so dark and cold outside, Rey kept finding herself thinking it was the dead of winter again. It was a cruel joke for it to be five below zero in mid-March with the weather network speculating light snow showers later in the week.

The point was that no one had dressed for the weather, which was what made the drunk man's behaviour so outrageously shocking and rude when he reached for the window nearest to him and opened it.

The large windows in the Skytrain couldn't open, but above each were vertical additions of glass, roughly one foot high by three feet wide that could be unclasped and pushed back. They were meant to be used in the summertime to provide much-needed airflow when the hot air mixed with the spice people's sweat.

They were_ not _meant to be used in abnormally chilly early-spring weather when only six people littered the car.

All eyes were on the drunk man, now, but the outrage that had flashed on each of their faces upon feeling the first burst of unwelcome wind was quickly squashed when they saw the source of their discontent. No one wanted to mess with the man built like an oak tree. Although the businessman could have been a contender-he appeared to fill out his suit quite nicely-he merely frowned, pursed his lips, and stayed seated.

Rey opened her eyes and sat up in her seat. She had two choices, she knew: stay silent like the others and suffer the cold because this drunken son-of-a-bitch had taken the notion to fuck with them; or, she could get up and put an end to the nonsense.

Drunk Guy smirked irritatingly at them all. Runaway girl had turned back around to look morosely out into the darkness again, shivering as she tightened her arms around her chest; but the young couple quickly switched seats, so they sat facing Drunk Guy. Though they were not about to say anything, they certainly didn't want to miss whatever may happen next. The girl had her phone out, and Rey wondered if she hoped to get a video of the guy spilling his wares all over the floor. He didn't look nauseated to her.

Rey took him more fully now that she had her eyes open. Though she had not seen him from behind, she figured it unlikely that he had a gun tucked in behind his jeans without a coat to conceal it, and without any bulge in his pockets, Rey doubted he had a knife on him. If he had one strapped to his ankle and decided to use it, she suspected she'd have time to move out of his reach before he got to it.

Drunk Guy watched Rey intently as she walked over and pulled the latch to close the window.

"Killjoy." He sat back, mockingly deflated by her actions and pouted at her dramatically. "I'm way too hot," he said, and then winked at her.

"You're not the only one here, and we're cold," Rey replied, though she knew she shouldn't engage with him. That's what he wanted, after all.

Predictably, Drunk Guy scooted over a seat, closer to where she was standing. "M'name's Ben. Who're you?" He spoke with the heavy-tongued slowness of someone trying hard not to slur their words.

Rey turned to go back to her seat, but Ben threw himself at the window, pushing it open again.

Rey glanced at the other passengers. They were all looking now, transfixed at the confrontation developing. The boyfriend had his phone out, too, no doubt recording the scene. At least it would make for good evidence of the facts if Ben turned violent, and Rey had to subdue him. He was stronger than her and could put her out with one well-placed punch, but she was smaller and more agile, especially in the confines of the Skytrain car.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that, but Rey was always thinking ahead, planning for all possible scenarios.

She closed the window again, though this time she had to lean into closer to him than she'd have liked, and tried not to wrinkle her nose in displeasure at the whiff of booze that emanated off him. Ben watched her intently as she stepped back a few steps, still facing him. He splayed his legs and slowly, never breaking eye contact, parted the top of his paper bag, exposing the white neck of a plastic bottle. He unthreaded the cap, took a swig, and extended the bag toward Rey.

"What, too good for you?" he asked, sneering when Rey failed to accept his benevolent offering. He withdrew his offering and screwed the lid back on.

"You're pathetic."

He was up in a flash, much quicker than Rey expected him to move. With his left hand, he still grasped the bottle by the neck through the paper bag; with his right hand, he stuck out his index finger and shoved it in Rey's face, the stench of booze assaulting her just as much as his finger. "You listen here, you snotty little-"

But Rey was quick, too; in one swift motion, she grasped his wrist and stepped to the side, pulling his arm with her as she moved, twisting it up behind his back, and with two quick jabs of her feet, buckled his knees before he knew what was happening.

"I think you've had quite enough," Rey said. "When this train stops, you're going to get up, all nice like, and you and me are going to walk onto the platform and leave these people alone. Understood?"

Ben grit his teeth, and Rey felt his body tense, ready to fight back; she tightened her grasp on his arm and pulled it up higher behind his back, causing him to cry out. "Understood?"

"Y-yeah."

The train arrived at the platform a few seconds later, and Ben staggered to his feet. Rey watched him intently, still holding his right arm behind her back, though it felt awkwardly ineffective now that he was on his feet and towering over her. She was mildly surprised he didn't put up more of a fight.

As she passed the businessman on the way out the door, Rey turned to him. "Thanks a lot for your help." He gaped at her, and she was gone before he could reply.

Rey let go of Ben with a halfhearted push. By habit, she glanced at the digital sign, hoping that hadn't been the last train for the night. It wasn't, but the next one wouldn't be by for another twenty or so minutes.

Rey cursed silently and watched Ben warily as he shook out his arm and turned to face her. Would he want revenge for the humiliation she'd subjected him to? Rey didn't doubt she could out run him, especially in his condition, but that meant she'd have to wait around until he left the station, and that might mean missing what was may have been the last train. She was tired and sore and hungry and so not in the mood for this. Why couldn't Mr. Hot Stud have taken care of this drunk? Lord save her from self-involved men.

To her surprise, Ben grinned at her. "That was really well done," he said, voice devoid of any of the drunken slowness. In fact, he held himself upright with none of the looseness he'd exhibited on the train, and that vague distant look was gone from his eyes. "Although, you could have done without the passive-aggressive quip."

"Who are you?"

Ben reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a card, which he extended to her. Keeping her distance, Rey reached forward and took it from him.

_Solo Security Services_, she read, _We're Your Peace of Mind_. On the flip side, a phone number and address.

"It's a legit business," Ben said. "Google it."

"I know it is." Solo Security Services was one of the biggest for-hire security agencies in the country. Almost every business Rey cleaned as part of Plutt's crew hired them for their after-hours security. Rose had even dated one of them once. "Why are you giving me this?"

"That whole thing on the train," Ben wiggled his fingers in the direction the Skytrain had left, "Call it recruitment."

"You mean that harassment?"

Ben shrugged, but he looked pleased with himself, and a laugh of disbelief escaped Rey.

"Are you offering me a job?"

Rey tried to gauge if maybe Ben-whoever-he-was was still drunk after all, but his demeanour had completely changed. He looked and sounded lucid, and he was maintaining a respectable distance, not a hint of hostility in his body language.

"As I said, that was really well done."

Rey flipped the guard over once more, as though rereading the slogan would provide some enlightenment. When it didn't, she pocketed the card. Just because he liked to play drunk in public transport and walked around with a business card didn't necessarily mean he worked for the company.

"Why don't we go for something to eat. A business interview meal, if you like," Ben said as if sensing her skepticism.

At the thought of food, Rey's stomach growled. But she still wasn't convinced. "You reek of alcohol."

"Oh, that." Ben laughed. "That's a specialty mouthwash made by a, ah, a friend of mine. As for this bottle of hard liquor? Well, here," he extended his paper bag toward her. "Have a drink, see for yourself."

Rey knew she shouldn't, but her curiosity was too strong. She took the bottle from him. Unthreading the cap, the stench of whiskey was unmistakable. She wiped the edge of the bottle. She'd seen Ben drinking from it quite clearly, and she doubted it was spiked, considering how lucid and coherent Ben appeared to be now.

Tentatively, she took a sip. "Oh my god." The dichotomy between the stench of the bottle and the sweet taste of the amber liquid was startling. "It tastes like flat coke."

_Who was this guy_? Despite herself, Rey found herself grinning at him. Suddenly, he didn't seem so bad looking anymore. Well, he'd never been bad looking, but the episode on the train had severely altered Rey's perception of him. But now it was like the angle of a triplet loupe had been readjusted: a blurry image became focused again. She took in his tall, muscular build and the intelligent sharpness in his eyes; his mass of well-kept curly hair; and the pleasant uptilt to his lips. He looked like a person who smiled and laughed a lot, and who also didn't miss much.

Perhaps this would lead to a new job opportunity like he proposed, or perhaps this was the most elaborate and creative hookup she would ever have.

Rey took another sip of the drink in her hands and decided that she didn't care much which of the outcomes it would be.

"Did you say, dinner?"


End file.
